So Let's Get Schooled
by lanakael
Summary: Jamie Adams HATES English class. Can Freddy help him turn the hate around? Not likely, but Jamie will remember THIS class for the rest of his life. Which won't be very long, of course. R&R, PLEASE! Now Finished!
1. English Sucks

_**So Let's Get Schooled**_

_Just a little something I came up with, inspired heavily by a story I read in an Ares Slash siteHey, I'm a chick who likes boys who likes boys. So sue me, alreadyAnywho, I decided to try my own version, starring our own very, very favorite Bad Boy Himself, Freddy. This is also an apology for my other series', for which my inspiration dwindles as my health declines. My Muse comes in short bursts these days, and all the lovely ideas swirling in my head tend not to last until I'm feeling well enough to put fingers to keyboard, or pen to paper. So, all my loving, lovely fans, _**I'm sorry.**_ Please forgive me, accept this humble story in its stead, and pray for me. This is my last pure passion remaining, and I ache to please you guys, who've written me and stuck with me and given me ideas and direction for my chapters. Your help and dedication have been far, far more rewarding than getting paid, since I'm not established and you don't have to read. So, King, Rice, et al: Bite Me :)_

**This freaking bites,** Jamie Adams thought grogily. Who the hell _cared_ what a tense and a comma and a friggin clause had to do with real life? Jamie ached with the effort of staying awake as the idiot teacher droned on and on aimlessly. The only thing keeping him from succumbing to sleep's spell was the fact that he snored(loudly), an activity that would not only awaken the teacher's ire, but would make his buddies tease him the rest of the year--not to mention wreck his chances of getting a date. So he struggled to stay awake.

It wasn't an easy task; the day had started out unseasonably warm and sunny for late March, a clear reminder that summer was marching gleefully toward Springwood. _No more teachers, no more books_...Jamie hummed his favorite song a bit under his breath as he looked out the window. The heater in the classroom had been turned off and the window actually opened, and the warm, clean air that wafted through the window lulled the class, made them ache to be outside, at the pool, at the park, anywhere but here, as the saying went. Jamie thought of his annual trip to Florida with his family; summer sun, tanning, watching the babes while he played football or volleyball or worked out or swam. That led him to another thought: his major, sports, and his minor, art, lunch, and girls, respectively. Where did English figure into any of his interests or plans for the future? He definately wouldn't need English if that football scholarship came through. Even if it didn't, his back-up passion, art, wouldn't need much in the way of English, either. Everyone knew that cartoonists had people to read their shit and correct any errors. And even if some bad grammar did slip through, he drew anime anyway. He could always add to his mystique by claiming he wasn't entirely American. Chicks dug that shit. And all this brought him back to his original thought.

He. Fucking. _**Hated.**_ English.

The teacher was just as hideous. This blew. Jamie blew out a frustrated breath and tipped his head backward, cracking his neck slowly. The swirling patterns of sunlight dancing off the ceiling caught his bleary gaze and caught; his head tipped backward further and his eyes closed. He heard a soft, almost sinister laugh closeby and his last concious thought was _wonder what the hell Brian found that's so funny. _He didn't ponder long though. His eyes sealed shut and he thought no more.

And so class begun.


	2. Summer Fun

Oh GOD was it wonderfully warm! Jamie looked around and was startled to find himself at the beach. He looked down; his tan, muscular chest and torso were bare, as was his legs. A quick tug to make sure his package was in place, then he spent a moment to preen as a trio of extremely _hot_ girls walked by slowly, glancing out the corners of their eyes, smiling, giggling to each other in soft whispers as the age-old dance begun. They stole glances; he openly leered at them. He flexed; feminine hips jutted as the girls put some sway in their steps. Heads tossed, hair went flying. Slick, glossy mouths formed imitation-adult smiles and pouts as pink tongues swirled around popsicles and ice cream cones bought to help ward off the summer heat. _Oh yeah, _Jamie thought, _gotta love summer in Florida!_

Jamie flexed and tripped in the opposite direction, knowing three very interested pairs of eyes were following him. And, best of all, he was blessdly alone; he didn't know where his family was and sure as hell didn't care. No mom to embarass him by bellowing sweetly to come and invite his new friends to picnic with him and share her hideous potato salade, or, worse yet, call him to smear sunblock over alarmingly white skin covered with even more alarmingly neon flowers. No dad, ribbing him about "chicks" while he flexed his old-ass body and tried to forget he wasn't 17 anymore. No brother and sisters to tease about yucky girls or him having a "giiiiiiirlllfrieeeend...K-I-S-S-I-N-GEEEE!!" or to cock block by throwing water balloons at him _just_ before he scored a girl's digits. Damn brats. Whatever. He was alone and he was on the prowl and it felt good.

Jamie popped a bicep and let his head turn a little too far back; as a result, he crashed into someone in front of him. "Why don't you watch where the fu-", he began, before his brain noted that this body felt soft and very, very female. His head swiveled around to behold the hottest, most perfectly round girl he'd ever seen outside the Internet or his dad's old _Playboy _magazines. And all that round, tanned, waxed, and bleached perfection was laughably "contained" in pink dental floss someone had tried to pass off as a bikini. Jamie's eyes bugged as he caught the girl in his arms to keep her from falling. Her tall, lithe body fell into him with a soft whoosh, bringing a subtle aroma of musk, sandlewood, and baby powder(?)to his nose. He inhaled deeply and his senses caught on fire and he blinked several times, sure he was dreaming. The goddess in his arms didn't vanish, however. Thought Jamie thought that for a moment an unpleasant, almost evil, knowing smile tugged at her lips, another blink showed she was cooing teasingly up at him, lashes fluttering as the most becoming blush flushed her cheeks.

"Hi," Jamie began, grinning broadly. The most amazingly jeweled green eyes gazed back up at him, blinking several times before the most deeply feminine, lyrical voice wafted against his cheek. "Helloo," she trilled, and Jamie's gut clenched. _Oh SHIT, a __**FRENCH**__ babe!!! _Jamie might not have had much use for the English language, but there were definate perks to French. One of which he was holding right now. Everyone knew that French chicks were easy! He had to bring his A-game, though, if he wanted to cinch the deal. "So," he began, "You enjoying America so far?" He cringed inside as the words stupidly tumbled from his mouth. He couldn't help it--she was rubbing, almost pushing, up against him and wreaking havoc with his concentration. Again, that hint of unpleasant, evil smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and, for a moment, her stunning green eyes turned cold. Before Jamie could ponder further, however, the words that came from her mouth froze any further thought.

"You like vat you zee, yes?" She took a deep breath, those mouth-watering breasts pushed up, threatining to spill from the ridiculous contraption barely covering them. Jamie's mouth watered and all he could do was nod dumbly. "Good," she continued, "you come vith me, yes?" With that, she turned, taking Jamie's hand as she started off. Jamie vaguely heard softly outraged protests from the girls he'd previously been flirting with, but suddenly they seemed as flat as the boards of the surfers dotting the water behind him, and even less appealing. His eyes were riveted to her ass, two tempting melons bursting from their fabric-covered encasement as she swiveled and swayed like a King Cobra caught in the grip of a charmer's spell. Jamie tripped along after her as the scene around him faded.


	3. Flip The Script

Jamie found himself in a beach bungalow, a female mountain lion devouring him. He had no clue how the hell they'd gotten to, let alone inside, the house; all he knew was the moment the door had closed, she was all over him. She had a tongue like an electric eel and damn! but she knew what to do with it! Her hands were everywhere, cupping, dipping, kneading, hardening every bit of him there was to harden. Jamie's senses were on overload but he didn't care a bit. She was soft in all the right places, so sweet smelling and oh, so skilled! He wasn't too terribly experienced with girls--he did ok for his age, of course--but she seemed like she was more than happy to fill in the gaps in his education. She suddenly broke away, grinning that maddening grin as she look up at him.

"Vous like to play zee games, yes?" She ran a smooth, warm hand down Jamie's chest and he shivered. He tried to focus on something, anything to give him back his swagger and grabbed at the first thing that came to mind.

"Your name, what is it?" He blinked stupidly as she trilled laughter, patting his chest.

"No namez, zilly boy," she chided gently, nails lightly scraping his chest, eliciting another shiver. Then her eyes turned hard again and she suddenly grasped one of his nipples between her fingers, twisting savagely. "Vous like to play zee games, _yes?_" She pressed against him again, but didn't relinquish her grasp on his nipple.

_Oh frig, my first bondage game...hell YEAH!_ The thought suddenly excited him, her body against his making him forget for the moment that that twisting shit hurt like a _bitch_. He figured if he could go back to school and brag to all his buddies that he'd bagged an older, hot-as-all-hell French chick this summer, then he could do with a little pain. As long as she didn't get _too_ kinky, he figured he could play along. The experience would serve him well once he got around all those college chicks next year. So he nodded, swiping a tongue around a mouth suddenly cotton dry as he croaked out, "Wha...what game are we playing?"

That brought a quick scowl to her face; a hand came up suddenly and slapped him across the face. He yelped and brought a hand to the spot, mouth opening to ask what the hell she thought she was doing. A quick finger to the lips brought him up, though. Her scowl was gone just as quickly, replaced by a sultry smile. Jamie barely registered that even though she was smiling now, her eyes remained cold. There was some strange glimmer in their depths, but those oh-so-kissable lips were distracting him.

"Shhh, my love. Vous beeen a bad boy, and bad boys must learn zee lessonz, yez?" Jamie didn't know what the hell she was talking about, but it sounded _hot_. And she was the older, more experienced one, right? He may as well let her take the lead. He nodded yet again and was rewarded by a larger smile. She clapped her hands delightedly and tugged at the waistband of his trunks; he followed eagerly, then came up short as he noticed a desk in the corner of the room.

"What's tha-?" he began, only to be backhanded.

"Zee bad boy does NOT talk unlezz zpoken too!" the woman barked, then shoved him. Jamie yelped again as he tumbled into the desk. He tried to get out, but the lady lifted a leg, planting her foot squarely on his groin. "Now, vous are zee stud_a_nt, I, zee teacher. Bad boy vill call me Teacher, yez?"

"Yes," Jamie croaked as the woman turned around. Once her back was turned, Jamie heard savage laughter, male laughter, full of cruelty and the promise of pain. His first thought--_oh shit, this is a hooker, this is a hooker and her pimp's about to come out of the closet or something and beat me up._ He got scared for a moment, then took heart. He was fit, body honed by years of sports and workouts in the gym. Let this creep bring it! He'd whip the little punk and maybe give the bitch a few slaps too, to pay her back for hitting him. He tried to rise, when, suddenly, bars sprung out of the desk, trapping him. His panic at that was nothing compared to the panic born when he looked up to find the hot, French woman had vanished. In her place, a hideously burned and scarred man stood, face radiating cruel glee. He had on a dirty, frayed green-and-red striped sweater and dark brown pants. His hands were behind his back; one swung out to plop a battered brown fedora hat on top of his head. The other pulled out one of those dunce caps you saw in old movies for dumb and misbehaving students. There were words scrawled on it in what looked suspiciously like blood: _You're fucked._ The burnt man placed this on Jamie's head, then patted it almost affectionately. There was no affection on his face, however. Far from it.

"Good," a gravelly, evil voice cackled. "Let's get you educated, bitch."


	4. Class Is In Session

Jamie Adams fought for breath, fought to quell the panic rising in his chest, fought to free himself from the contraption that held him. An evil chuckle brought his attention to the monster standing in front of him; Jamie's head snapped up and his terror increased as the man tapped his fingers against his chin. In the first blind rush of panic, Jamie had completely missed that one of the man's hands was encased in an old glove that sported some nasty looking blades on each finger. It reminded Jamie of..oh, hell, what was that old movie he'd watched with his parents when he was little? _Oh yeah, Edward Scissorhands_, Jamie's mind supplied helpfully. This guy though? He didn't look like a sad, kindly creation that gave out free haircuts and fell in love with doe eyed teenage girls. No, this freak looked like he did things to teen girls that Jamie was better off thinking about. And enjoyed it all. _You're not a teenaged girl, though_, Jamie's voice offered up, again trying to help. If that thought popped up to reassure Jamie, however...oops. Jamie was _far_ from reassured.

Suddenly, those claws lashed out, catching Jamie under the chin. The boy, half out his wits already, screamed and tried to slink into the chair as though he could slide out of the bottom and escape. No such luck, though, and the claws forced the boy to raise his head to stare into eyes glittering with insane glee.

"Zee bad boy pays none of zee attention, no?" the voice coming from the man's twisted mouth was the girl's. Then it was gone and the hated voice of the man was back. "Kids these fuckin' days. Never paying attention. You speak English, dumbass! How can you be failing it?" He shook his head almost sadly as the poor child in his grasp struggled to catch his mind up to the surreal scene playing out before him. His mind scrambled a few more seconds, then he brightened. _Of COURSE!!!_ He'd fallen asleep during 'ol Idiot's English class and now he was dreaming! What the hell, he figured a scary dream was better than English class any day, and he relaxed. That relief was short lived, however. The man's blades came up and caught him across the cheek, trailing lines of fire across his skin. Jamie screamed again before those hateful blades came up to cover his lips.

"Class is in session, piglet. You'd do well to pay attention. The class is English. The curriculum will be broken into sections. Each one will deal with how you're gonna die. I promise it won't be boring. Ready to begin? Not that it'll matter if you aren't. My name is Freddy, and I'll be conducting this class. Any questions?" He waited as the boy shivered so hard words could barely exit his mouth. Freddy shook his head and tsked as his eyes brightened. "Hey kid! I'll make ya a deal. You pass my class and I'll let'cha live. You fail, you die, got it?" He grinned widely as the boy, scared mute, could only nod, a small glimmer of hope entering his brain. Oh hell yeah, he'd pass this course! Then he'd pay attention to ALL of his classes until he got his friggin Ph. D!

Freddy roared with laughter suddenly. Then he bent down so that his face was level with the boy's. Jamie choked on the man's horrid breath, eyes wide with fear.

"Good," Freddy purred. Let's start with the semi-colon, shall we?"


	5. The Apostrophe

"Now, the apostrophe, it has two funtions: Possessioon, and Contraction. Let's break these down.

Possession

Freddy's body. Freddy's knives. Freddy's children. The man's revenge on the town. The killer's thrill at ripping you little bastards to pieces.

I use the apostrophe when I want to indicate possession. The body, the knives, the children, the revenge, and the thrill all belong to Freddy, and that's what the apostrophe indicates. Though ya don't need to add the an extra s if the word ends with an s.

Contraction

The apostrophe is also used to denote missin' letters. 'I can't wait to rip your throat out'. Can't is a contraction; the apostrophe lets you know that something's not there. It's just been squeezed down for space. So 'I cannot' turns into 'I can't.' _Jamie gulps at these words, which brings a smile to Freddy's face. He allows himself to bask in the image a moment before moving on._

Listen to how ya speak. You contract everythin' in normal conversation. But contraction is really a shortenin' of longer words.

Little tip here? When ya see an apostrophe, try to put in missing letters. If ya can't, you know it's possessive.

Whose vs Who's

Whose, without the apostrophe, is possessive. The Dream Deamon, in whose body the souls of all damned children rests. The body belongs to the Deamon.

Who's, with the apostrophe, is a contraction. The Dream Deamon, who's [who is so misunderstood, had to teach Springwood what it meant to hurt.

Its vs It's

Its, without the apostrophe, is possessive. Its sharp, shiny blades felt nice and comfortable against my fingers. The sharp, shiny blades belong to the its, which would be the glove supporting my blades. _Freddy fanned his blades out in front of him, clearly admiring each blade with the look of one contemplating his lover. Tears formed again in Jamie's eyes as he wondered what those blades would do to him should he fail this class._

Your vs You're

Your, without the apostrophe, is possessive. Your heart pumps twice before stopping. The heart belongs to you. For now_Freddy chuckles at this while poor Jamie's blood freezes in his chest_

You're, with the apostrophe and e, is a contraction. You're [you are terrified of me. _Freddy chuckles a second time, then snaps his fingers. _We're ready to move on.


	6. The SemiColon

Freddy waved a hand; suddenly, a blackboard appeared. He took one long claw and dragged it slowly across the board. The terrible scrrreeeech that it emitted made tears spring to Jamie's eyes. Freddy closed his eyes and breathed deeply, as if the sound turned him on or brought back fond memories. And it was. But, just as suddenly, the man's eyes snapped open and he dug more deeply into the board, carving words into the surface and speaking as he did so.

Freddy stared deeply into the boy's witless eyes, hard, knives screeching on the board. "A semi-colon," he begins, his whiskey-and-gravel voice sending a hot shiver of fear down Jamie's spine, "separates two independent clauses. Let me show you. I want to kill you; you want to get out of here alive. See?

Each independent clause, or complete sentence, is divided by a semi-colon, not--" he pauses here, eyes darkening, "Not with a comma. If you use a comma, that's a comma splice. It's like me dyin' in all my fuckin'' movies; it breaks all natural laws. And we don't want to break any_ laws of nature_, do we?"

Freddy paused, taking a moment to flex his clawed fingers as Jamie gulped and nodded frantically. "Let's try one more. 'Freddy rammed his knives through the boy's chest; he could only gurgle before he died.' See? Use a semi-colon, not a comma there. If you do it right, I'll consider not making that statement a fact." Freddy smiled winningly, then tapped his knives on the board again. "Now, let's move on!"


	7. The Colon

No, the colon ain't what I rip out of my children, though I often do. _Freddy cackles at his words as Jamie gets slightly sick to his stomach. He can't help it, the image was just too graphic __**not **__to imagine. _**This **particular colon is one of the most misused of all punctuation marks, and yet it's one of the scariest. People use colons often, when they really should use commas.

So what does a colon do, exactly, other than put thoughts of delicious disembowlment into my head? In short, you can use colons to introduce statements that summarize, restate or explain what is said in an independent clause. I'll get ta independent clauses in a bit, ok?

A colon can introduce a list only when the words before the colon are an independent clause

If you really want to stay alive, you need to do two things: learn to think on your feet to outsmart me(which ain't gonna happen, boy), or fall in love with coffee.

You use the colon in the above example because the section before it appears is an independent clause, while the section after explains what is said in that clause. That introductory section has to be independent, otherwise you go to grammar hell. With me as your everlasting instructor. _Another cackle; another shiver._

A colon can also introduce an appositive, a word or words that rename a noun or pronoun, but only if the introductory words form an independent clause.

The boiler room of Freddy has one outstanding feature: the charmingly evil Dream Deamon.

["The big, bad god of war" renames 'the feature'.

A colon can introduce a quotation, but only if the words before the colon are an independent clause. Use a comma, not a colon, if the words before the quotation are not an independent clause.

Freddy, voice a low rumble like the bowels of Hell opening, insists you're the victim on his list: "Your body's mine. Your soul is mine. Come to Freddy." _Freddy's eyes twinkle devillishy as he delivers that line. Jamie starts to cry. Freddy seems energized by those tears; he moves on almost cheerfully._

When the first independent clause explains or summarizes the second independent clauses, a colon can separate them.

I'll never forget the first time he slid those sharp blades into me: I was lying on my bed and then he popped up without warning.

Misuse of the Colon

A complete independent clause must come before a colon, except with standard material, like chapters and verses of the Satanic Bible. When you don't have an independent clause in the introductory part, you don't use a colon.

NO: Freddy killed: Rod, Tina, then you.

YES: Freddy killed Rod, Tina, then you.

The words or phrases such as, including, and like can be tricky: don't let them lure you into using a colon incorrectly.

NO: Freddy complains about a lot of things, like: his step-father's neglect, the mockery of his classmates, and how the thought of revenge makes him want to sing.

YES: Freddy complains about a lot of things, like his his step-father's neglect, the mockery of his classmates, and how the thought of revenge makes him want to sing.

Don't use a colon to separate a phrase or dependent clause from an independent clause:

NO: Night after night: the Dream Daemon bathes in the blood of the innocent.

YES: Day after day, the Dream Daemon bathes in the blood of the innocent.

NO: At the day's end: Freddy waits for the sweet sounds of the sleep of his children to call to him.

YES: At the day's end,Freddy waits for the sweet sounds of the sleep of his children to call to him.


	8. The Comma

_Freddy licks his lips, enjoying the boy's fear a moment before he speaks. _ Commas usually function within sentences to separate elements. I'm going to give you some pointers. Remember, of course, that failing this course is deadly. _He smiles again, then picks up the lecture._

Commas are used:

To separate independent clauses linked by a coordinating conjunction (for, and, or, so, but, nor, yet). Freddy is a misunderstood soul, yet he is always portrayed as a monster who gets it in the end in all his fuckin' movies.

To set off most introductory elements. An introductory element modifies a word or words in the main (independent) clause that follows. Unfortunately, we never see Freddy win in his movies. The only Freddy _can_ win is for his lovely piggies on the fan fiction sites to write it in, and even then it means whippin' that punk bitch Jason Voorhee's ass.

To set off non-restrictive elements. _Huh? Jamie struggles to understand while Freddy controls his anger at the boy's ignorance._ "Commas around part of a sentence often signal that the element is not essential to the meaning of the sentence. This non-restrictive element may modify or rename the word it refers to, but it does not limit the word to a particular individual or group." He smiles expansively, then offers an example of a sentence with non-restrictive elements: Freddy, who has killed many children, would like nothing more than to wipe out Springwood's child population before moving on. The middle part's non-restrictive. By contrast, a restrictive element does limit the word it refers to: the element cannot be omitted without leaving the meaning too general. Because it is essential, a restrictive element is not set off with commas. The Dream Deamon who kills bad little piggies likes to thin out Springwood's population.

To separate items in a series. Freddy loves his leather glove with knives, his fedora hat, and kiling kids while they're still virgins. Because it's funny knowing the last thought to run through their pitiful little minds is now they'll _never_ get laid. _Freddy finds this hilariously funny for some reason, perhaps because that's _exactly_ what ran through Jamie's mind at the Dream Deamon's words. The laughter subsides and once more Freddy speaks._

To separate coordinate adjectives. Freddy is a mean, cold mutha fucker.


	9. The Final Test

"Dialogue in writing is what kills most people." _Here Freddy smirks, and Jamie, who absolutely hated doing book reports and paper writing, smirked along with him_. "It's the fuckin' spacin' and the quotation marks that gets 'em every time. But punctuating dialogue is as easy as confusing Jason Voorhees--and we all know how easy **that **is--c'n I getta amen?" Freddy lifted his gloved hand as if for a high five; Jamie blinked stupidly a few times, having absolutely no clue who the hell Freddy was talking about, then blinked Freddy shook his head and lowered his hand, looking disgusted. "Kids these days," Freddy said, then turned and scratched that into the chalk board; Jamie winced.

"Notice how that comma's there after the last word in the quotation marks. It goes there because the speech is followed by what's called a speaking verb ("said").

If the action directly following the dialogue does not involve speech, but a different type of physical gesture, then you put a period".

"Your soul is mine." 'He regards you with a wicked smile'".

Freddy scratched that last sentence onto the board, then grinned as Jamie winced again.

"Check it out. I'm regarding you, and there's no way I can regard 'Your soul is mine'. It can be whisperd, screamed, mumbled, hell, even growled, but you can't look it. So a period follows the speech, because he is speaking, _then_ doing something else.

Ok, one last note here, kiddo. Each time you write dialog, you have to double-space between dialog."

Freddy scooted the board out of the way, then stretched elaborately. Jamie was dancing inside. Hemore than passed this 'test'; he'd learned a hell of a lesson and when he woke up, he'd sure as hell remember _this _one until he graduated!

"So, let's finish this. Say, 'Freddy is a Dream Daemon.'" "Freddy is a Dream Daemon," Jamie stated with confidence.

"Good!" Freddy exclaimed. "Now, another one. 'Freddy has killed a hundred times before, and will kill a thousand times more.'" Freddy smiled, seemingly charmed with his own impromptu rhyme, and Jamie followed suit, forgetting his own horror as he gained confidence that he was acing this, and charmed as well by the thought of this Daemon so bursting with self-confidence.

"Now, one more: 'Freddy is going to slit my fucking throat for being so damn dumb.'"

"Freddy's going to slit--" Jamie's eyes widened with horror and his voice shrunk from its confident ring to a frightened, wounded tone. Freddy's eyes grew cold once again and that nasty, hated grin was back full force. "--my throat," he finished in a ragged, mousy whisper, unable to stop himself from completing the sentence.

"My pleasure," Freddy sing-songed, stepping forward, brandishing his blades with a flourish. Jamie only had time to gasp before those blades, honed by years of use, sliced his throat as easily as butter.

"You...said..." Jamie gurgled, then he couldn't speak any more. As he bled to death, his eyes asked the question for him. As Freddy shook his head, the boy expected the monster to say he'd lied.

Instead, Freddy grinned even wider, shaking his head as he wagged a finger. "What I SAID was I wouldn't kill you if you learned the lesson. _YOU _thought I was teachin' English. All them sentences shoulda TOLD you I was gonna kill ya. But you weren't _paying attention_, and _that_ was the lesson." He smirked as the boy's eyes glassed over. "Put down the damn video games'n pick up a book sometime." He stabbed Jamie in the heart for good measure, laughing, then threw the boy to the ground. "Fuckin' idiot kids."

Freddy looked around a moment, as though someone were watching him. Spotting what he was looking for, he smiled, moved a few steps, then tapped the screen encasing him.

"Hey, you! Yeah, you. Fan fiction readers! Are you payin' attention to what you're readin'? Don't let me catch you surfin' those adult sites!" He smirked again, then stalked off, whistling cheerfully.


End file.
